


OWLs Are Important

by FullBladderLemons (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Embedded Video, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Omorashi, Public Humiliation, Situational Humiliation, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15041507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/FullBladderLemons
Summary: A commission for a lovely anonymous soul. Enjoy!





	OWLs Are Important

“Yeah, that's right!” Ron called after the younger Hogwarts student as he walked away. “You had better keep moving!”

“You're very brave, Ron,” Harry said with a smile as they watched the second year boy's silhouette disappear down the hall. “You really should go easy on the second years, though,” he added with a playful grin.

Ron rolled his eyes fondly, bending down to help Harry gather the books that the student had knocked from his hands as he had strode by. All he had done was shout after the boy, telling him it was rude to knock into someone like that and not even say that he was sorry. He’d only been brave enough to get a bit mouthy once he was sure that the other student was nearly out of earshot. “Brave,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Yeah.”

He was brave, though, in most scenarios. He had managed to keep his cool in plenty of situations that others would crumble under. He could face the darkest darkness and fiercest beasts, and he could manage to convince himself that he was stronger than he really was in order to protect those he truly cared about. As long as there weren't any spiders around, Ron would have to agree that he was quite brave- this just wasn't a situation that he was showing his bravery in.

“Oh no, we’re going to be late now,” Harry muttered, frowning and glancing down the hall as they finally finished picking up his books from the floor.

It was true- their next class was on the other side of the castle, and they wouldn't be able get there any less that five minutes late, now. Ron cringed as he stood, the pressure in his lower stomach reminding him of _why_ he had hoped to have a few minutes before class started. He had wanted to run to the toilets before their next lesson. What a way to start the first day of the new school year- late to class and needing a piss, to boot.

Ron handed Harry back his books, putting on a brave face and nodding. “We should be getting on to class, then.” He would just have to wait until after their next lesson was over to use the bathroom. There was no way he would be excused during class after being late. Still, he held a secret hope that their seminar instructor might be kinder than their usual potions instructor, Professor Snape. If they were, perhaps there was a chance that Ron could ask to go to the toilet.

The hallways of Hogwarts were confusing, a maze that you could easily get lost in. Harry and Ron had their fair share of being late to classes because of this their first few years, but now, as fifteen-year-old fifth years, they had no excuse to be stumbling into class late. Ron cast a longing glance at the restrooms as he and Harry rushed past them, almost risking being even later by asking Harry to stop. Instead, he followed Harry further down the hall, up a staircase, and down a narrow corridor to their classroom.

Ron was convinced that he and Harry were magnets for trouble. Their next class was a potions lesson, and it was being taught by a new instructor who had no previous history with he or Harry. Yet, as they sheepishly pushed open the classroom door and tried to quietly step inside, she stopped mid-sentence and sent an icy glare in their direction. Somehow, Ron got the feeling that she had a conversation or two with Professor Snape before the school year began. 

“Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” she barked, setting her lips in a firm line as she called them out by name. “Is that correct?”

“Yes ma'am,” Ron replied, only to be cut off by Harry before he could voice an apology.

“We’re very sorry for being tardy, ma'am.”

“You're sorry, are you? Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, are you aware of the O.W.L. exams given at the end of your fifth year here at Hogwarts?” She asked, tapping her wand on her desk impatiently as she waited for their response.

Ron barely resisted rolling his eyes. They obviously knew about their O.W.L exams seeing as that was the reason they were required to take this additional seminar outside of their normal tortuous lesson with Professor Snape. Instead of replying sarcastically, Ron nodded as Harry answered for them, “yes, we are.”

Ron wanted to melt under the focused stares of their peers, the heat of them prickling his skin as the professor humiliated them. He hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt, or as scarlet as Harry's was. He shuffled in place, the awkward feeling of being a spectacle flooding over him at once. Even with their social status cemented as the new Gryffindor prefect and quidditch captain, Ron didn't enjoy getting shamed in front of his classmates.

“And do you think,” she continued, standing from her chair, “that we just cram for these exams during the last few weeks of the year?”

This time, it was Harry who shook his head, and Ron who responded verbally with, “no, ma'am.”

“That's right,” she agreed, tone snapping back like a rubber band. “Every moment of class in your fifth year is in preparation for these exams! So if you think that just because it's the first day of classes that my lesson won't be valuable to your studies, you are _sadly_ mistaken!”

Ron's ears burned with shame at the scolding, but he spoke up as Harry hung his head and averted his eyes to the floor. He had to, if he was going to spare himself and his friend of further embarrassment. “Yes ma'am. We didn't think your lesson wasn't important, I promise you that. See, there was another student who bumped into Harry and knocked over his books and we h-"

The professor scoffed, shooing them to their seats with a wave of her hand. “I don’t care for your excuses. Just sit down so we can all get back to the lesson that you so rudely interrupted.”

Ron nodded, following Harry to the only open lab table left in the room. He was beginning to wonder if “cruel" was a required trait on the Hogwarts Potions Professor application. He sat down on the hard stool stiffly, feeling his bladder weighing down heavily inside him. He _really_ wished he’d had time to stop at the bathrooms. At least sitting down took the slightest bit of pressure off. Ron glanced at the clock, already looking to count down the minutes until this class would end.

“Now, as I was saying-” The professor cast a glare in Harry and Ron’s direction. “This year we will be introducing much more complicated potions to you. The ingredients will be more dangerous, and you will have to put your _full_ attention to the work in front of you if you wish to succeed in this course and pass your O.W.L. exams.”

“She seemed to know who we were,” Harry whispered, shuffling his seat a bit closer to Ron’s as she continued on with her lecture.

Ron nodded, drawing his eyes away from the clock, which still tormented him by letting him know there was almost an hour until class would be dismissed. _Fifty-three minutes, and then you can use the loo before your next class_. “She must have talked with Professor Snape,” Ron guessed, shrugging.

“Mhm,” Harry hummed in agreement, his eyes trained on the professor as she paced across the front of the room. “She and him seem to have… similar qualities.”

Ron bit down on his lower lip at the conversation’s end, unable to keep his mind from wandering back to his growing discomfort without a proper distraction. He’d had english breakfast tea this morning with his pancakes and eggs, and then a cup of water after. He had stopped at a few water fountains throughout the day while passing by in the halls, and he’d had a bottle of pumpkin juice at lunch. That was a lot of liquid to consume, and Ron hadn’t used the toilet since he’d first gotten up. He visibly cringed at the thought, all the contents of his bladder throbbing in protest of being kept inside.

Ron tried to adjust himself to be a bit more comfortable, crossing one leg over the other. That was a bit better. With his member pressed tightly between his thighs, Ron didn’t have to concentrate quite so much on holding it in. He relaxed the slightest bit, letting the pressure his thighs provided do most of the hard work for him.

“Are you alright?” Harry interrupted the professor’s lecture again in a quiet tone.

“Huh?” Ron felt his cheeks warm, and he nodded. “I’m alright, yeah.”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he looked Ron up and down, and Ron made a point to stay as still as possible. “You look stiff,” Harry finally reasoned.

Ron wasn’t necessarily shy about letting someone know he needed the bathroom- especially not Harry. But in this case, if he told Harry that he needed to go, then he would realize that Ron stopping to help with his books was the reason that he didn’t have time to use the bathroom before class, and he would end up blaming himself for Ron being uncomfortable. That was the last thing he wanted to make his best friend feel- especially after he was nearly knocked down along with his books.

“I’m okay,” Ron said with a reassuring smile. “A little bit stiff after her attitude, I guess, that’s all,” he added in for good measure.

Harry seemed to accept the excuse, nodding and returning the smile. “I'm sorry that you got a scolding because of me.”

Even after Ron had specifically avoided the topic of his bladder so Harry wouldn't put any blame on himself, he still managed to do so. Ron sighed, shaking his head. “I… well, I probably would have been late, anyway,” he admitted sheepishly. Surely, if he had managed to be late from picking up a few books, stopping to relieve himself would have made him even later than that.

“Hmm? Why's that?” Harry tilted his head to the side, casting Ron a sideways glance.

Ron shrugged, blowing off Harry’s confusion. “I uh… I was going to run to the loo before class, but I guess that would have made us even later to her lecture.”

Harry frowned, his eyes scanning over Ron and finally putting his tense posture and the sheepish admission together in his head. “Are you… going to be alright?” He asked, brow furrowing.

Ron forced a strained smile onto his lips, stretching them almost as far as his sore bladder had been expanded inside of him. “Sure, of course!” He replied, cheerfully enough that he almost convinced himself it was the truth. “I’m okay.”

“...Alright then.”

Harry knew him well enough to see through a fib, but he was respectful enough to drop the subject and save Ron from any further embarrassment. An awkward silence fell between them, only the background noise of the professor’s lecture filling their ears. Ron’s attention was swiftly brought back fully to the liquid settled in his lower stomach, seeming to slosh and splash around with every tiny movement that he made.

The last thing that Ron wanted to do was squirm in his seat in the middle of class- he certainly didn’t want to make even more of a spectacle of himself or Harry. But, he was finding it increasingly harder to sit still as the lesson progressed. His crossed legs helped to relieve some of the pressure he felt, but not the urgency. His lower stomach ached and tingled, waves crashing over him that made him think he might soak his pants right then and there. Ron nearly whimpered, imagining the piss pooling on the stool and dribbling out onto the floor. The thought of such relief was almost too much to bear.

His frequent change in positioning didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, who kept stealing glances in Ron’s direction. Each time, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but then decided to keep quiet. Ron felt his face growing hot again, and his eyes moved up to the clock once more. _Forty-eight more minutes._ He tried to convince himself that he could hold it- he was fifteen years old, after all. That was much too old to be wiggling around in his seat from an overfilled bladder.

Ron tried his best not to think of it, but his mind kept drifting to the last time he’d felt so desperate for a wee. It had been in the car with his family, and Fred and George had a field day teasing him as their parents searched for somewhere that they could stop for Ron to relieve himself. He would never admit it to anyone, but when they finally did find somewhere for him to go, his underwear hadn’t been completely dry anymore. His face grew even warmer at the thought, imagining how ashamed he would feel years later, with damp underwear at fifteen. He struggled to remove the thought from his mind. He was nearly an adult, and he would just have to hold it like one.

Ron grimaced as a particularly bad wave of desperation came over him, bending forward on instinct and gripping the edge of the table with his hands. He exhaled shakily, trying to bear down on the hard stool and gather himself enough to move back into a semi-casual position. As he was finally able to release his death grip on the table, he saw Harry staring at him intently. Ron wanted to melt into the floor, or cast a disappearing spell on himself. Anything to escape the humiliation of Harry's knowing gaze.

“You could ask to be excused, you know… if you tell her that it’s an emergency,” he suggested, his own cheeks tinting pink at the words alone.

Ron truly wanted to die, right then. He wished he could crawl under the floorboards at the childish language- an _emergency_? When you were five years old, needing the bathroom was an emergency. There was no way he could admit to the professor, especially not in front of all their peers, that his need for the toilet was an _emergency_.

Through his racing thoughts, Ron only managed to whisper back, “she wouldn’t let me go, anyway. There's no use embarrassing myself by asking.”

Harry shook his head insistently, tugging on Ron’s robe sleeve with just as much gusto. “But it doesn’t hurt to ask; the worst she could say is no- and then you won’t be any worse off than you are right now.”

But he truly would be. Ron cringed at the thought of everyone in the class knowing that he not only needed the bathroom, but needed it badly enough that he would ask after being late and scolded for it. That and the thought of calling it an _emergency_ was enough to make Ron shiver on the spot. He shook his head, staring down at the top of their lab table as he rocked his hips as subtly as possible.

“Everyone will know I need to go, then, and if she says no… which she probably will… they’ll… _know_ ,” he whispered frantically, realizing that he was hardly making any sense.

Even then, Harry nodded as if he understood. “Right,” he agreed. “You don’t want to feel like a spectacle for the rest of class, especially not after we just got a lashing before.”

Ron nodded eagerly, grateful that Harry had managed to decode his desperate rambling. “Yeah,” he murmured, too focused on holding his bladder to say much more.

Harry glanced up at the clock, then, before training his eyes back on Ron. “There’s a little over forty minutes left,” he encouraged his friend. “Hopefully it will go by quickly.”

Ron nodded, signalling the end of the conversation. He knew that Harry was trying to be helpful, but the pain shooting through his lower abdomen was starting to overtake the feeling of fullness and ache, and Ron was getting worried. Forty minutes was a long time, and he was sure that the pumpkin juice from lunch hadn’t quite finished filtering through him yet. He wasn’t sure he would be able to hold on much longer if his predicament got any worse.

Ron bit down on the inside of his mouth, tapping his fingers against his thigh rhythmically to try and soothe his building anxiety. He stole frantic glances over at Harry, all while trying to make it seem as if he wasn't as bad off as he truly felt. The clock now told him that there were exactly forty minutes left of class. Ron tasted iron in his mouth, and released the inside of his cheek from between his teeth. 

“As you all must know by now, safety is the most important thing when it comes to mixing potions. Your safety, as well as the safety of others. You will always exhibit the utmost caution when mixing potions in my classroom, or I will not hesitate to send you out of it.” _Oh, what Ron would give to be sent from her classroom right about then._

Ron would be put to sleep by this professor's lesson if his bladder wasn't throbbing so intensely. He sighed heavily, shifting positions again and crossing his legs tightly. Trapping his member between his legs wasn't helping him to fight the urgency as well anymore; he felt his lip beginning to tremble at the thought of sitting still for the next thirty-eight minutes. 

A sudden hand on his upper arm startled Ron, causing him to grunt softly. He instinctively moved his hand near his crotch as he felt a leak threatening to escape, only managing to stop once his hand was hovering over his zipper. Ron cringed, watching nervously as Harry dropped his hand with a frown. He drew his own hand back, fisting it on the fabric of his thigh. _How could I nearly do such a childish thing with Harry right there?_

“Will you be alright? You really don't look so good.”

Ron hadn't realized that he was squirming in his seat, but there was no way he could stop the constant motion of his hips now. He shrugged, averting his eyes back down to the table as his cheeks flushed red. Here he was, wiggling in his chair like a toddler in the middle of class, right next to his best friend, no less. Some prefect, indeed.

“I want to ask her to leave, but I know she'll just say no,” Ron admitted. The clock still tormented him, the hand seeming to move in slow motion. How could there still be thirty-five minutes left? It felt as if Ron had aged a year in the time he'd been sitting there.

Harry showed nothing but sympathy, nodding slowly. “What if you say that you feel ill? That you need to go to the infirmary?”

Ron weighed his options- he could ask to go to the toilets and possibly be told no, then have the entire class know his predicament. Or, he could tell a little white lie and avoid that embarrassment altogether. Before he could change his mind, Ron raised his hand.

The professor took her time addressing Ron, finishing an entire portion of her lecture before glancing in his direction. Ron's arm ached by the time they locked eyes; it had surely been a few minutes. She sighed before addressing him, tone curt.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron cleared his throat quietly enough that she wouldn't hear, lowering his hand slowly and wincing as his bladder panged as if on cue. “Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm feeling quite ill. May I please be excused to the infirmary?”

The professor looked him up and down, clearly trying to place whether or not he was telling the truth. “Evidently then, you're feeling ill enough to interrupt my lesson a second time, after being late to it in the first place?” She snapped.

Ron grimaced, feeling his bladder give another sharp protest, and opened his mouth to beg her to believe him. “Ma’am, I-”

“He does look rather pale,” cut in a soft, serious voice from across the room.

Ron looked up, grateful to see Hermione speaking up from across the class. He sighed, watching as the professor stole her a quick glance before directing her attention back to him. She pursed her lips, looking defeated. “I suppose he does, doesn’t he?” She murmured, hardly loud enough for Ron to hear.

“I really do feel ill, Ma’am,” Ron emphasized, leaning forward in his seat as if feeling woozy, though he was truly leaning forward to try and grind his crotch down onto the stool.

The professor sighed, clearly defeated. She glared at Harry, ordering him, “you may walk Mr. Weasley to the infirmary, and then come straight back to class, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded frantically, standing up faster than Ron had seen him move in some time. “Come on, Ron,” he whispered, nodding towards the door as the professor began to speak again.

Ron grunted as he pushed back his stool, feeling the liquid sloshing around inside of him. This was going to be a rough walk to the restrooms. He managed to stand without more than a cross of his legs, desperately trying not to let anyone who may be looking get wind of his _real_ dilemma. He followed Harry towards the door in slow, close steps, keeping his thighs as close together as possible. He prayed that it was sweat he felt in his underwear, dampening them just so, and not the fluid he was desperately trying to keep inside him.

Once safely out in the hall, Ron allowed himself to groan. He bent forward at the waist, trying to get his bearings before they began their trek down the hall. “Oh, thank goodness she let us leave,” he whined, eyes scrunching in sheer concentration. Standing up was much harder than sitting down, his urgency was amplified in tenfold. It felt like every single drop of pee was at the very tip of his member, ready to gush out at the slightest loss of his control.

“Mhm,” Harry readily agreed. “Let’s get you to the toilets before you explode,” he suggested. He looked up and down the hall, seeming to weigh their options. Finally, he pointed to their left. “We should go this way. The toilets are about the same distance from the other ones, and these ones we don’t have to take stairs to get to.”

Ron steeled himself and trying to straighten up the best he could. He followed Harry down the hallway, wincing each time he took a step. Each time his shoe hit the floor, it seemed to send a shockwave up his entire body and a sharp pang through his bladder. He was so full, he could nearly taste it behind his teeth. He was quite sure he had never been this bad off before, and he tried his best to hide his pain.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked softly, turning back to see that Ron had barely made it a few steps. He frowned sympathetically, hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out to his friend.

Ron nodded, taking another step much too soon. Trying to keep hold of the last shred of his pride was a miscalculation, and he gasped as he felt a spurt of heat warm his boxers. On instinct, his hand groped at his crotch, still barely minimizing the damage. Ron’s face grew hot as he stared at the floor, not daring to look up at his best friend with his hand still buried between his legs. Oh, it hurt so badly to hold it in. Pinching himself off was barely keeping his pants dry now that one lone spurt had made its way out.

“It’s alright,” Harry assured him, his voice not seeming a distant as before. He had clearly moved closer to Ron. “You’ll be okay.”

The encouragement only served to embarrass Ron further, the blush on his cheeks crawling all the way up to his ears. “Sorry,” he mumbled, finally moving his hand from his crotch. His underwear felt damp against his crotch, and he didn’t dare check to be sure the damage didn’t leak through to his trousers.

“It’s really alright,” Harry repeated himself. “Can you walk now?”

If Ron could turn even redder, he would have. Instead, he nodded, taking a cautious step forward. His bladder was as heavy as a boulder inside him, and he could feel the piss struggling to leak out of his tip with every tiny step he took. Ron felt a hand on his shoulder, steady and gentle. Harry kept his hand there as they crept down the hall, Ron’s legs growing shakier with each step.

“H-Harry,” he croaked as another uncontrollable wave washed over him. “I-”

He barely managed to grip himself before another leak escaped, avoiding dampening his pants further by the skin of his teeth. He bent over, one hand buried in his crotch and the other fisting the thigh of his school pants hard enough that his knuckles turned white. His bladder was screaming at him, sharp pains alerting him that he was probably causing himself damage.

“I know that you’re really bad off,” Harry told him, “but just try to hang on a bit longer.”

Oh, he was trying. With every ounce of willpower, he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of dignity. He clutched himself even tighter, feeling another spurt trying to worm its way out even with his hand clamped down. Ron’s breathing grew tight and shallow as he desperately tried to fight his own body. It wasn't working, and Ron nearly began to hyperventilate, the walls beginning to swim around him from the sheer effort of holding back.

“We’re almost there,” Harry encouraged him further. “Come on,” he added, gently tugging at Ron’s jumper sleeve.

“I can’t… I can't move my hand,” Ron admitted, cheeks absolutely flaming.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to,” Harry whispered, tugging at his sleeve again. “Try and walk, alright? We’re getting really close to the toilets.”

Ron looked up; they weren’t much closer to the toilets at all. But still, he tried to take another agonizing step, his hand still gripping himself as hard as he could. His privates hurt, and his bladder hurt. Even his back was starting to hurt from his hunched positioning. Ron whimpered pitfully as Harry guided him down the hall, a hobbling, wobbling mess.

“It hurts,” he croaked painfully as another wave overwhelmed him, stopping him dead in his tracks. His hand was already buried deep in his crotch- there was nothing else he could possibly do to try and stop the leak. Ron cringed as a hot spurt graced his underwear, this time dampening his hand. Tears brimmed in Ron’s eyes, and he was barely able to blink them away. _Harry was going to see the wet spot._

“I know it does,” Harry murmured, trying once more to pull him along. “We’re nearly there now, Ron.”

_Nearly there_ wasn’t close enough. Ron let out a desperate sound- a painful mix between a moan and sob, as another long spurt spread into the fabric of his trousers. “Harry, please…” He didn’t know what he was asking of Harry- he knew that there was nothing more his friend could do for him. But still, pleading for his help was the last thing Ron could think of as he lost the fight with his bladder.

It came in long spurts at first- hot trails that snaked down his legs and made his pants stick in random places. Even as Ron heard his urine begin to patter onto the floor, he felt no relief. The grip his hand had on his member slowly slackened, allowing him to piss properly. Ron moaned embarrassingly as it jetted out like a fire hose, soaking him completely and beginning to splash loudly onto the floor beneath him. The sound echoed through the hallway, making Ron's ears throb and pound.

Ron felt tears trailing his cheeks- a mixture of embarrassment, relief, and pure exhaustion. His body shuddered as it finally got relief, and Ron didn’t realize that he was having trouble holding himself upright until Harry moved his free hand to Ron’s other shoulder, holding him in place. Ron gasped and shivered as his bladder emptied, proving to be almost as painful as holding it in for so long.

“It’s okay,” Harry was quick to soothe his friend as Ron began to sob.

Ron buried his face in his hands, nearly gagging at the acidic smell coming from them. His face was burning and he tasted nothing but salt in his mouth, heavy sobs wracking his frame as Harry rubbed his back through it all. Harry’s hands were the only thing that kept him from sinking down in the puddle he had made, and his words were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“It's alright, Ron. Shh, don’t cry.”

Now that Ron had started, he found it hard to stop. He sobbed into his hands as his pants began to cool, clinging to his skin uncomfortably and only serving to make him cry even harder. He didn’t dare to as much as peek through his fingers, silently begging for this to all just be a bad dream. _Wake up, Ron, wake up!_

It wasn’t a dream. Ron was standing in the hallway of Hogwarts with soaked pants at the age of fifteen, and no pinch would wake him from that. Ron tried to stop crying as he lifted his face from his hands, but was unable to tone his sobs down to much less than a sniffle.

“I… I’m sorry,” Ron whispered, fresh tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“No, no! You have nothing to apologize for!”

Ron let out another pathetic sound, lip trembling as he bit down onto it to stop another sob from ripping through his throat. “I-I just wet myself, Harry! At school, at fifteen- I’m the prefect, and I’ve just humiliated myself and everyone will find out and then-”

“Shh, shh.” Harry didn’t hesitate to wrap Ron in a loose hug, trying his best to console him. “No one is going to find out, I promise. We’ll fix this, okay?”

“H-How?”

Harry shushed him again, gently tugging at his jumper sleeve to lead him from the puddle of urine he stood in. Halfway down the hall, Ron looked back behind them in disgust. “What about-”

“I’ll take care of that after, don’t worry.”

Ron grimaced, but allowed himself to be lead further down the hall. They finally reached their originally destination, the bathrooms, a bit too late. Ron frowned as Harry led him past the toilets, instead back in the direction of their dorm rooms. Ron bit his lip, hoping they wouldn’t run into anyone in the hallways that might see him with pissed-in pants.

They finally made it to the living quarters, and Harry shooed him to the bathroom. “I’ll bring you fresh clothes, alright?”

Ron nodded, glad to be able to duck into the bathroom so that Harry wouldn't see how red his cheeks had grown again. He knew he didn't have time to do much more than rinse off in the shower, so he quickly turned on the tap and began to undress.

Peeling off his soaked, cold clothes was humiliating, even alone in the restroom. Ron's eyes welled up with fresh tears as his wet trousers hit the tile floor with a loud slap, echoing throughout the room. Ron pulled off his wet socks and underwear as tears streamed down his already raw cheeks.

Harry entered the bathroom once Ron was safely behind the shower curtain, the hot water washing away tears and filth. “I'll leave your clothes out here for you,” Harry murmured.

“Thanks,” Ron sighed softly.

“You know I don't think any less of you, right?” Harry said suddenly, causing Ron's heart to rise in his throat.

“Even after watching me wet myself like a little kid?” Ron wallowed bitterly.

“Wetting yourself doesn't make you a little kid. It wasn't your fault, Ron.”

Ron shrugged, although he knew Harry couldn't see the action. “I'm fifteen years old, I should have been able to hold it.”

“It wasn't your fault, Ron,” Harry repeated firmly. “Anyone would have an accident if they waited too long, no matter their age.”

_An accident._ The words alone made Ron shiver, shame building up inside him once more. “I'm finished showering now,” he whispered, shutting off the tap.

“I’ll wait for you outside.”

Ron waited until he heard the bathroom door shut behind Harry to poke his head out from behind the curtain, gratefully taking the towel Harry had left out for him. He stared at the fresh clothes he had left behind as he dried himself, realizing that the wet, sodden articles were no longer on the floor where he had thrown them. Cheeks flaming red once more, Ron silently hoped that Harry hadn’t taken away his piss-soaked clothes.

Ron dressed in his clean clothes slowly, pacing around the bathroom for a few moments and combing his hair with his hands. He shoved his hands in his pockets, rehearsing a casual statement in his head over and over to minimize the awkwardness of the situation- _Well, I'm glad that embarrassment is over, huh?_

Ron had it all planned out in his head, for he and Harry to have a good laugh and move on. But once he opened the bathroom door to find his friend leaning against the hallway wall waiting for him, every good intention to make it less awkward flew out of Ron's head.

“I'm really sorry,” he blurted out, hanging his head in shame.

Harry sighed, propelling himself off the wall and moving towards Ron. “What ever for?”

Ron groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. “You touched my _pissed on_ clothes,” he lamented.

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. “Trust me, being shoved under that staircase with limited toilet access for years, I'm no stranger to touching peed-in clothes.”

Ron felt guilt welling inside him again, and he let his arms drop to his sides in defeat. “I'm truly sorry.”

“You don’t need to be, I promise,” Harry assured him. “Everything is alright.”

Ron found himself hugging Harry back, grateful for the compassion and understanding he was being shown even after such an embarrassing, childish act. He sighed, pulling away from Harry's embrace after a few moments. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Harry murmured, smiling as Ron sheepishly scratched the back of his neck with his hand.

“I guess we’d better get back to class,” he suggested.

Harry nodded, moving towards the door. “Shouldn’t you go to the infirmary, though? To keep with your story of being ill.”

“Oh,” Ron realized, dropping his hand and following Harry. “I guess you’re right.”

They walked down the halls in silence until they came to the place where they would part, Harry going to the left and back to class while Ron would go to the right and to the infirmary. At the crossroads, Ron once again thanked Harry, giving him a smile and a wave.

“Really, thank you. I’ll see you at our next lesson?”

Harry grinned back, returning the wave. “See you then!”

Ron was glad to have a friend as kind and loyal as Harry, feeling a weight lifted from his chest as he continued down the hall alone.


End file.
